The Honor of the Name eBook

CHAPTER XXXII

Alone in his cell, Chanlouineau, after Marie-Anne’s
departure, abandoned himself to the most frightful
despair.

He had just given more than life to the woman he loved
so fervently.

For had he not, in the hope of obtaining an interview
with her, perilled his honor by simulating the most
ignoble fear? While doing so, he thought only
of the success of his ruse. But now he knew only
too well what those who had witnessed his apparent
weakness would say of him.

“This Chanlouineau is only a miserable coward
after all,” he fancied he could hear them saying
among themselves. “We have seen him on his
knees, begging for mercy, and promising to betray
his accomplices.”

The thought that his memory would be tarnished with
charges of cowardice and treason drove him nearly
mad.

He actually longed for death, since it would give
him an opportunity to retrieve his honor.

“They shall see, then,” he cried, wrathfully,
“if I turn pale and tremble before the soldiers.”

He was in this state of mind when the door opened
to admit the Marquis de Courtornieu, who, after seeing
Mlle. Lacheneur leave the prison, came to Chanlouineau
to ascertain the result of her visit.

“Well, my good fellow—­” began
the marquis, in his most condescending manner.

“Leave!” cried Chanlouineau, in a fury
of passion. “Leave, or——­”

Without waiting to hear the end of the sentence the
marquis made his escape, greatly surprised and not
a little dismayed by this sudden change.

“What a dangerous and blood-thirsty rascal!”
he remarked to the guard. “It would, perhaps,
be advisable to put him in a strait-jacket!”

Ah! there was no necessity for that. The heroic
peasant had thrown himself upon his straw pallet,
oppressed with feverish anxiety.

Would Marie-Anne know how to make the best use of
the weapon which he had placed in her hands?

If he hoped so, it was because she would have as her
counsellor and guide a man in whose judgment he had
the most implicit confidence—­Abbe Midon.

“Martial will be afraid of the letter,”
he said to himself, again and again; “certainly
he will be afraid.”

In this Chanlouineau was entirely mistaken. His
discernment and intelligence were certainly above
his station, but he was not sufficiently acute to
read a character like that of the young Marquis de
Sairmeuse.

The document which he had written in a moment of abandon
and blindness, was almost without influence in determining
his course.

He pretended to be greatly alarmed, in order to frighten
his father; but in reality he considered the threat
puerile.

Marie-Anne would have obtained the same assistance
from him if she had not possessed this letter.

Other influences had decided him: the difficulties
and dangers of the undertaking, the risks to be incurred,
the prejudices to be braved.